Storm
by tilleygirl
Summary: Mary's thoughts as she watches a storm roll in.  Written as a birthday gift for Bujyo.


Wind sighed through the trees, exhaling brisk breath upon newly budded branches swaying precariously in the arms of a fickle lover. Low clouds scudded across the sky, intermittently blocking the pale light of the half moon. The air was filled with the static sense of coiled energy, on the edge, waiting to be released. Mary stood in front of the wide expanse of plate glass in the bay window, watching in fascination. The partially cranked open side panels admitted cool air as well as the smell of imminent rain, as sheer curtains billowed around her. Streaks of lightening in the distance lit the far off mountains, illuminating the inky darkness with flashes of brightness, racing down from the heavens to spotlight the outline of the peaks, before encroaching darkness doused the sharp ridges into murky tones of charcoal.

Nature on display, a hint of her full fury spread across the vast desert sky. The air was electric with the impending potential for destruction, the sense of restraint palpable. Taunting. _See, look at me, I can release so much more. _ Power. Controlled, then unleashed. Howling over any obstacle in its way. Unrepentant. Unmerciful. Uncaring.

Storms were a thing to hide from as a child. Angry winds and pelting rain impetus to pull the covers over her head and huddle into herself. The rise and fall of the gusts a matching accompaniment to the all too frequent angry words emanating from the living room or adjoining bedroom. Screams and whimpers. Threats and apologies. Bluffs and pleading. The occasional shattering of a bottle against the wall coinciding with the booming of thunder. Storms brought fear to a small girl who didn't understand what was going on around her.

As an adult, storms were an inconvenience. Something to drench her clothes. Tie up traffic. Leave a puddle in front of a forgotten open window. She rarely had the chance to just stand and observe, to take in the power of nature, to feel the little thrill of fear.

Viewing the approaching weather system from her solitary observation point, Mary's thoughts started to roam, drifting back to places she usually tried to avoid. Rumbling started to reach her ears now, as the storm moved closer and the rain started to fall. Large drops loosed from the bonds of ominous clouds, landing with a distinct 'plink' against the pavers of the sidewalk and the large rocks that were a significant component of the xeriscaped front yard. The sand soaked up the steadily falling rain, beginning to turn a darker shade of beige, an unusual contrast to the normal aridity of the area. Cacti stood silent sentinel; guarding against what? The man inside needed no guard. Although she put her life on the line every day to do just that. Guard him from any who may try to harm him.

She took a deep breath of sharp, clean air. Storms in the mountains were so different from the storms of her youth, rolling in off of the Atlantic. Although both reflected her inner turmoil, she thought with a wry smile. That hadn't changed from childhood. Chaos still reigned in her life. Sudden downbursts, abrupt changes in direction, lack of control, howling at the injustice of it all. Rage.

The rain was coming down in earnest now, the torrent drumming a pounding rhythm on the roof, bright bolts and loud cracks causing her to jump in the darkness. She had stubbornly refused to turn on any lights, to drive back the smoky blackness. Mary wrapped her arms around herself, attempting a vain effort at self-comfort, unable to move from her front row seat to the show. A particularly loud crack elicited a sharp gasp from her. The sharp echo faded and her heart slowed back to a rhythm more in keeping with the norm.

She felt his presence then, behind her, waiting. Waiting for some kind of signal from her. Infinite patience radiated from him. Veils of rain came down, the strong wind driving a spray of moisture through the screen of the window, misting her skin. She shivered and he stepped closer, settling large hands on her upper arms. Warmth caressed the entire back side of her body as he stood behind her.

A strike of lightening left her momentarily blinded and she swayed slightly, disoriented. He was there to steady her, palms skimming down her arms to wrap around her waist, pulling her close. She allowed it, because she had never shared a storm with anyone before. Never gazed at the majesty of it with another set of eyes behind her. Never felt the comfort of another presence, breathing regular and measured. Never felt the heat of another warming her damp skin as the sky lit up and danced to the beat of Mother Nature's drummer.

The view was spectacular and she wondered why she didn't spend more time here. Why she didn't allow him more of herself. She was always drawn to this window, this panorama of the desert and the mountains. He always granted her time alone to drink in the splendor displayed outside, to ground herself, to exorcise her demons. Always hovered in the background, at the edge of her awareness. Waiting. Waiting for her to acknowledge him. Waiting for her to need him.

The crack of the bolt caused them both to jump, but she settled almost immediately, because he was there. Deep voice murmuring in her ear, soothing. Lips grazing her neck, warm, seductive. She closed her eyes and felt him. His comfort like a blanket, warm and familiar. Hands rested on her abdomen, intimate in a way she couldn't articulate. Mary allowed herself to sink back into the solid wall of his chest, her hands lightly clasping his own.

They watched the show of power in silence, adjusting to the bright flares and deafening rumblings. Leaves twirled past the window, carried on an invisible current, to a destination unknown. A gust lifted the light curtain and it momentarily wrapped around them, before losing it's ethereal support and dropping back against the window. She felt, rather than saw, the smile that crossed his face, as even nature bound them together.

Palms large but gentle, initiated a languid caress across her belly, friction imparting a slow path of heat from hip to hip. Cool moisture sighed in through the screen, contrasting the warmth generated by the solid form of her partner. One long leg nudged hers aside as he slid his his jean clad limb inside of hers, settled a hand on her hip and pulled her back against him. His arm crossed her torso, hand snugly on her hip, holding her in a warm cocoon of security and affection. Rain fell heavily as the light show moved into the distance, the rumble of thunder no longer audible.

She spared a thought for her poor plants, drowning in the downpour. The deck furniture that hadn't been pulled back from the pool, cushions expanding to become soggy flotation devices. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the man behind her, the reminder of uncontrolled fury in front of her. The rain eased into a steady offering, the wind abating as the light and symphony show moved on to another gig.

She made a small movement and he loosened his grasp. Holding but not restraining. Waiting. Always waiting. For her to tell him what she needs. For her to indicate through body language what he should do. For her to finish thinking. For her to decide.

Mary tugged at him as she turned, his hands easily falling from her, never pinning her in or trying to hold her to one spot. Moving across the darkened room, she led him down the hallway to his room, fingers lightly clasping his hand. Chilled digits engulfed in warmth. Finding her way surely through the darkness, trusting steps behind her echoing on the hardwood floor.

The smell of rain cleansed air greeted them through the open window. Crisp, fresh. She flung the covers back from the bed and sat down, drawing him with her. No sound left his lips, the unusual silence a blessing she offered up in thanksgiving. For tonight, she just wanted to be held. To listen to the rain fall, feel the cool breeze, smell the freshness of the air, and to feel him. To feel his arms around her, his body curled around hers, his breath on her neck. Perhaps his lips on hers. To know that he is there.

The End


End file.
